


Shot You Down

by pip_girl_111



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Gunner Sole Survivor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7603024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pip_girl_111/pseuds/pip_girl_111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After realising her son has been taken by the Institute Ava Olsen (sole survivor of Vault 111) gives up her search and joins the Gunners where she finally finds solace in what she's good at: Mercenary work. </p><p>However, it isn't long before she's tasked with a mission she can't bring herself to carry out, and her world, once again, flips on its axis - the life she's worked so hard to move on from, dragged back from the past, and Ava is forced to make decisions she never wanted to be part of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apologises for the cheesy summary, I wanted to give an idea of what the story is about but in all honesty I'm not entirely sure where it's going myself.
> 
> Please let me know what you think and comment with any ideas/ head cannons you have about gunner!sole, I'm really interested in hearing them, either here or on my tumblr: http://pip-girl-111.tumblr.com/ :)

"You won't get your son back honey. Someone disappears in the Commonwealth, Institute has 'em. No way you're finding him. Sorry sweet." 

That was the first time Ava had been told she would never see Shaun again. At the time she'd brushed it off, _"you don't know me,"_ she'd said, knocking back the drink the barmaid had placed in front of her and sauntering out of the decrepit bar, Codsworth in tow. 

"Oh Mum, I'm sure we'll find him," he'd said, his words confident. Ava had smiled and agreed, slugging her rifle further up her shoulder and setting off to the next settlement she could find. 

However, it was always more of the same, some variation of "I guarantee you, he's in the Institute." Or a, "sorry Miss, but you won't find him." Codsworth was always there with a chipper comment to boost her morale, but eventually Ava began to give up. She stayed longer at the bars she found, drinking and fighting. _"Living the life of the Commonwealth"_ she'd told Codsworth, his disappointment met with snarky comments about how there was nothing else for her to do now but fuck, drink and shoot. She had realised she was pushing away the only companion she had, but for Ava, the pressure of keeping Codsworth happy was worse than wandering the Commonwealth alone. 

The final straw for Codsworth came when she refused to help rescue of mismash group of wastelanders who were trapped by raiders in the old Museum of Freedom. In all likelihood she would have made it out unscathed, but Ava wasn't willing to take the risk, and that had pushed Codsworth to his limit. 

"If you're so adamant on saving them, why don't _you_ go in there and do it Codsworth?" she'd screamed at him after he'd tried to convince her, again, to at least take out some of the raiders. 

"Well Mum, maybe I will," he'd spat out, fury laced through every word. "Any relationship we had ends here, I QUIT!" And with that he'd left Ava, alone, on the outskirts of Concord. 

She'd stood frozen to the spot for what seemed like an age, a cacophony of panicked thoughts hurtling through her mind, until the realisation that she'd managed to piss off her serving robot so much, he could not longing bring himself to follow his programming, silenced her anxiety. Then, she'd laughed; a deep belly laugh that brought tears to her eyes and echoed through the silent Commonwealth. With her mind finally clear, and with no external moral compass to direct her, she placed a marker on her pip-boy, turned on her heels and headed towards Gunners Plaza, ready to move on from Nate, from Codsworth and from her lost son. 

\---------------------------------------------------- 

Ava sighed and made her way cautiously towards Wes' desk. She was getting impatient waiting for him to read her report and set her on a new task. She looked around the empty room, double checking that she was definitely alone as she sat down in Wes' chair and carefully pulled open the top draw. She rummaged through, pulling out random objects as she went; papers, pencils, spent bullet cases, a few bent caps, until - hidden in the depths of the draw - her hand glanced over a smooth wooden handle, she wrapped her fingers around it excitedly, smiling to herself as she pulled the hand mirror into the light. 

She paused for a second, holding the mirror away from herself; after weeks of being out in the Commonwealth she was apprehensive about seeing herself fully without so much as having a wash beforehand. She held her breath and turned the mirror round slowly. She groaned at the face staring back at her, a face far more weathered and damaged than she'd hoped for. She was covered in dirt, her cheeks blistered slightly from the sun and the skin on the tip of her delicate nose was flaking, her full lips were chapped from dehydration and her blue eyes were glazed with exhaustion. But that wasn't the worst. Her recent fight with Lieutenant Millard had left a large purple bruise blooming across her jaw and a vulgar cut through her eyebrow, and to finally top it all off the small red tattoo on her temple was covered in a nasty looking scab. Ava ran a hand roughly across her face. It was fine. She could clean herself up later, and on the bright-side, at least her hair still looked good. She'd be eternally grateful to Private Jackson for that, she thought to herself. 

Ava reflected back on her first mission with the gunners. It had taken nearly six weeks to orchestrate an attack on the gang of raiders and by the end of it, her unruly mane of thick icy-blonde hair had become the subject of nearly every joke around the camp-fire. 

"I know you want to keep your hair Olsen, but seriously, no-one can stand the sight of it, it's a fucking state," Private Jackson had joked before sitting Ava down and knotting the majority of it into more manageable dreadlocks. Ava swallowed the lump that formed in her throat as the memory turned bitter-sweet. She touched Jackson's shredded bandanna that was wrapped one of the locks and quickly blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes. Ava missed Jackson, not only because she was the only other woman in her squad, but because she was her friend, the one person she'd met since leaving the vault that had her back no matter what. 

Private Jackson had been shot and killed a few weeks ago on a job gone bad. That was part of the reason Ava was sat in Gunners Plaza: Wes had demanded a report as to why two talented Privates in one of the best squads the Gunners had, had been shot down by a fucking caravan guard. 

The sound of heavy footsteps snapped her from her thoughts and she shot out of Wes' chair, throwing the mirror roughly back into the draw. She hopped over the desk and brushed down her clothes, trying to look as if she hadn't just been snooping through her boss' things. 

"Evening, Sergeant Olsen." Sergeant Garcia's chipper tone echoed around the dilapidated room as the young man strolled towards her. He eyed her suspiciously. "What you up to?"

"What? Nothing. Why do you always assume I'm up to something?" she retorted, folding her arms protectively across her chest and leaning back on the desk. Garcia continued towards her, his large frame quickly crossing the room in a few strides. He was far cleaner than her, having spent the majority of the last three months hidden out at the Plaza meant he'd had the time and the means to look after himself; his dark hair was styled neatly off his face, the sides freshly shaven, and his tight t-shirt and trousers were freshly washed. 

He glared at her. "You been picking at this?" he questioned, pointing to her tattoo. 

"No!" she laughed, covering the mark with her hand and turning away. 

He quickly closed the remaining gap between them and pulled her hand away. "Fucking hell," he mumbled, grabbing her head and twisting it roughly to the side so he could see it better. "Olsen! That's a fucking work of art and you've picked it! What was the one thing I said not to do?" 

She mumbled under her breath. 

"What was that?" Garcia teased, cupping his ear with one hand, "I didn't quite catch what you said?" 

"PICK IT!" she shouted at him, swatting his remaining hand away from her face. 

"Yes, pick it. Exactly. You've ruined it now." 

"Really? Garcia, it was shit in the first place, I could have done a better job myself. No mirror, having Murmuring Stanny describe the shape to me... AND using my left hand," she taunted, pushing herself up on the desk behind her. 

"Mmm-hmm, whatever you say Ava." Garcia's voice trailed off as he nudged her legs apart with his knee and stood between them. "I bet it's sore though?" 

"A little," she replied, her voice low. 

He pushed her hair away from her temple and regarded the tattoo again. She lent into his hand, craving his gentle touch. Garcia's gaze flicked between her lips and her eyes, and he moved close enough to her that she could feel his breath on her face. She inhaled sharply, her heart racing in her chest. 

"What you could do with is a stimpak," he whispered, brushing his lips across hers. 

She narrowed her eyes and pulled back slightly, watching as he fumbled in his back pocket. 

"Yeah, if only you had a _friend_ who so happened to have one going spare," he drawled, slowly pulling a stimpak from behind his back. 

"For fucks sake!" she cried, lunging for the syringe. He swiped his arm away and used his other to push her chest back, keeping her seated on the desk. "Please Seb, look at my face! That scabby tattoo is the least of my problems... Please!" 

"Wow, first names and everything," he smirked, "you must really be desperate..." He trailed his hand slowly from her chest to her neck and ran his thumb slowly along her jaw. "Well this is a valuable commodity, and seeing as I know you're shit out of caps, you should have a nice long think about what else you can trade for it." 

Ava snorted and kicked him away. "You're an asshole," she chuckled. "Save me the effort and just tell me what you want?" 

"Aww Ava that's not the game!" he whined. "You have to act all..." 

Heavy footsteps cut his sentence short and he rushed to sit on the couch, stuffing the stimpak back in his pocket as he went. Ava jumped off the desk and stood in the center of the room hands clasped behind her rigid back. 

"Captain Wes," she greeted as the commanding officer stormed into the room. "I hope the report was..." But before she could finish her sentence, Wes had grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her face off the desk, once, twice and a third time for good measure. She heard her nose crunch and felt the blood pouring across her lips almost immediately and a violent pain burned through her face. She bit her tongue hard, bottling the scream that threatened to escape her lips. 

Wes pressed her cheek against the wood, holding her down with a flat palm against the side of her face. "So, I had a nice little chat Lieutenant Millard. According to him, you've been getting a bit chopsy. Thinking your opinions mean more than his, trying to argue orders." 

She kept quiet. 

"This is your reminder that you are a SERGEANT and no matter how much of a dick he is, Millard is a LIEUTENANT. That means you do as he says. Don't like it? Tough shit, Princess. Understood?" 

She nodded her head under his palm and he pulled her up from the table. "Good." 

She wobbled slightly as an intense jolt of pain sparked across her face and blood pooled at the back of her throat. As Wes moved to the other side of the desk, she glanced quickly back at Garcia who smiled solemnly at her. 

"I read your report. Shame about Jackson and the other one," he commented, nonchalantly. The mention of Jackson's name tugged at Ava's stomach and she swallowed thickly. "But looks like you did all you could seeing as Millard wasn't around. Well done." 

It was rare to get a compliment from Wes and she was glad he was busy looking in a draw rather than at her suddenly flushed face. Garcia snorted behind her and she shot him a dirty look, wincing as her nose seemed to crunch again at the sudden movement. 

"So Olsen, you're in charge of this one." She quickly turned her attention back to Wes who threw a folder at her. She caught it clumsily and opened it. Drops of crimson spotted over the scrawled description of her first mission and her tears blurred the words further. She'd read it later. 

"Take Garcia as a replacement for Jackson and... whatever his name was," he gestured to the man sat behind them. "He needs to get out more, had way too much time on his hands... Look at his fucking pretty-boy hair. Cunt." Wes mumbled. 

Any other time Ava would had laughed, but she didn't trust herself to make any noise other than a scream. 

"Rest of the squad stays the same minus Millard," Wes continued, turning his focus back to Ava. She stared at him, hoping she portrayed her question through her eyes. "He's staying here, I want to see exactly what you can do," Wes answered, stuffing random folders back into the draw and walking round the desk. "And Olsen? Try not to die... You're a hell of a shot," he cautioned, before sauntering out of the door. 

The tension in the room rooted Ava to the spot until the sound of Wes' footsteps faded into the distance. She turned her head towards Garcia, slowly this time. 

"He's gone Ava," he confirmed. 

That was all she needed. The atmosphere in the room seemed to disappear almost audibly and she doubled over, the scream she'd been holding back finally bursting from her throat. 

"FUCK ME!" she growled, kicking the desk out of frustration and hurtling the folder across the room towards Garcia. Searing pain ripped through her face, blacking her vision for a moment. She lent her head against her forearms on the desk and tried to breathe deeply through her mouth. 

"Fuck that hurt," she mumbled against her skin once her vision returned. She rolled her head from side to side in a desperate attempt at self-comfort and distraction, until she heard Garcia approach her. Before she could turn to look at him however, she felt the sharp scratch of a stimpak being injected into her neck. The relief was instant and she moaned as the screaming pain of her broken and bloodied face calmed considerably. 

She rolled her head to look Garcia in the eye. "Thought that was a valuable commodity?" she jested, lazily pointing at the used stimpak in his hand.

He smiled, white teeth seeming to glow against his dark skin. "Well seeing as your my boss for the foreseeable future, I thought I best keep on your good side." 

She pushed herself slowly up off the desk and stood in front of him. "Seb baby, you're always on my good side," she retorted with a smirk, running her hand slowly up his chest to cup the back of his neck and rub his jaw with her thumb. They stood in silence, Ava taking a moment to revel in the feel of his smooth, warm skin beneath her touch before quickly turning away and strutting towards the door. 

"Pick that up before you follow me," she ordered, pointing to the array of paper that lay strewn across the floor. "I'm going to need to know this mission inside and out if I want to be _Lieutenant Olsen._ " She considered the name on her tongue, repeating it quietly under her breath. "Has a nice ring to it don't you think?" she asked Garcia, turning to wink at him before dodging round the door frame and making her way to her squad's quarters. 

She had to reel herself in as she almost skipped down the corridor. For the first time in a long time Ava was excited about the future - Nate and Shaun now confined to a distant memory.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava heads her first mission using skills she developed before the war...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to [Raiven_Raine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raiven_Raine) for chatting with me about this and helping me sort out some things in my head.

"You sure this is gunna work Ava?" Tom's shaky voice cut through the awkward silence of the car. 

"Yes," Ava replied, not taking her eyes off the seedy club in front of her. 

"Ava though... seriously... have you thought this through?" 

She swung round to look at the young man in the backseat. The car park was dimly lit and an ominous shadow was cast over him. But despite the darkness, Ava could clearly make out his facial expression; fear, doubt, guilt - all the things she didn't need to be dealing with. 

"Yes," she spat again, frustrated at Tom's lack of trust. His face contorted slightly at her harsh reply and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She paused. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and softened her approach. 

"Look, Nate assures me that he's in there, _'seven till nine, every Wednesday, like clockwork'_." She glanced at her watch; 8:52. "So, in eight minutes, when he walks out, I'll play the damsel in distress and pretend my car's broken down..." 

Tom stared silently back at her. 

"Tommy, we've been over this a million times, when I get him to the car..." she paused for a second, then waved her hand dismissively, unable to bring herself to verbalise her instructions, "just... do what I'm paying you to do." 

"But he's... he just..." he spluttered, his face paling. 

"What? 'He just', what?" 

"He hasn't _done_ anything Ava." 

She shifted entirely in her seat and stared the man down. "Maybe not, but I'm Mr Crew's lawyer and he's paying me a hell of a lot of money to make sure he doesn't go to jail, and if this guy," she pointed to the club, her words seeping in venom, "testifies then there's _jack shit_ I can do to keep Crew out of the joint. Their whole case is riding on this man's testimony." 

She shuffled again in her seat, anger and trepidation bubbling in her stomach, "but if you've got a way to do this that doesn't involve kidnap, torture and blackmail then please, I'm all ears." She paused, allowing Tom the chance to interrupt. 

Silence. 

"No? Exactly. Look if you don't want to be a part of this, go now and I'll deal with it myself." She spun back round in her seat just in time to see her target leaving the club. 

"I'm not going to leave you by yourself," Tom mumbled, pulling his hood over his head and fiddling with the drawstrings nervously. 

Ava smiled, keeping her eyes forward. "Yeah, you're just too scared to tell Nate you couldn't do his job," she joked. 

"Damn right I am. He might have a broken leg but he could still hunt me down. I just feel like there must be another..." 

Ava was barely paying attention as she stepped out of the car quietly and moved to look through the rear window. "Get down." 

Tom clamped his mouth shut at the order and looked nervously around the car, desperate for any last minute inspiration that could get him out of the situation he found himself in. 

"Now!" Ava barked, scowling at him through the glass. 

"You're fucking terrifying sometimes you know that?" he hissed, sliding slowly across the backseat, lying back so he was hidden from view. 

Ava ignored him and, once he was in position, moved to pop the bonnet of her car. 

"Nate needs a bastard medal for putting up with you!" he called, slightly muffled, from the car. 

She glared through the window at him and he put his hands up, smirking. "Joking, it's just a joke..." 

She relaxed and gave him a quick smile before turning her attention back to the man on the other side of the car park; he was fiddling with something in a briefcase and she took the opportunity to summon some fake tears before circling around the empty lot towards him, making sure to keep out of view of the only working CCTV camera. 

"Oh thank god! Sir? My car's broken down and I, I..." she fake sobbed, drawing the man closer to her and away from the camera. "He's going to be so mad," she wailed, running an anxious hand through her hair and allowing her sham tears to pour freely down her face. 

The man placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Please calm down, what's happened? Who's going to be mad?" 

"My husband, we've only just bought the car... Oh god, it's the first time he's let me drive it and I've wrecked it!" She sobbed again and could see the man panicking for her. 

"Look, I’m a mechanic, I can have a look at your car, see what I can do and then if it's really messed up I can get it to a garage for you." 

He smiled sweetly down at her and his kindness threatened to fracture Ava's resolve. She took a deep breath, focusing on imagining herself having to stand up in court and question this man, rather than on the images of him with his family or laughing and joking with colleagues. No, she had to focus on the fact that she could never compete with the weight of his testimony; if she couldn't deal with this now, Crew was going to jail, and his substantial bribe would be whipped away from her. 

"Thank you.” She gestured to the dark corner of the car park “It's over there." She drew in a few shaky breaths for effect and walked with the man towards her car and towards Tom who was waiting inside. 

 

\------------------------------------------  
The Commonwealth was unusually quiet; the air was still and the sun shone gently onto Ava, gradually warming her pale skin as she lay stomach down on the dusty ground. If she wasn't in the middle of a job Ava would almost be relaxed.

Garcia flopped down next to her, crossing his legs roughly, and she handed him the sniper scope she'd been looking through. Below them lay a relatively well kept two-storey building, flanked by two dilapidated houses. 

"He's in there," Ava stated pointing to the center building. 

Garcia stared through the scope, his mouth pressed into a hard line, refusing to answer her. 

"You not even a little bit impressed at how quickly I've tracked him down?" she asked, dejected at his lack of enthusiasm. 

"Umm, yeah... Yeah I'm impressed. But that's not the issue." He placed the scope tentatively on the floor and turned to face Ava, a solemn look marring his features. She sat up, ready to argue. 

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this plan... Are you sure it's going to work Olsen?" 

She clenched her jaw as she reigned herself back from exploding at him. 

"I just don't know if you've thought it all through," he added quietly. 

"You were fine about it before! Why does everyone doubt me? I know what I'm doing!" She paused as she watched Garcia's face twist in confusion, and gave herself time to calm down before continuing, "this isn't the first time I've done something like this." She took Garcia's hand in hers, interlocking their fingers, "trust me, I know what I'm doing." 

He sighed and ran his thumb along the side of her hand, "Ava, you're just so good at bursting into a place - _with the squad_ \- and bringing it down. I don't see why you have to go in there on your own." 

"Because, for a start, it has to look like an accident..." 

"We can make it look like raiders, no bigger accident than them." 

She snorted, "no, we're not doing that, because, second of all, that is a brothel and, plead ignorant all you like, but you know as well as I do that every brothel has it's heavies." Garcia sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and pouted. She smiled and continued, "right? And this place has some _heavy_ heavies. And a lot of them...for some reason." 

She drifted her gaze to the building; it's situation and the number of turrets - another reason Ava was against the 'all guns blazing approach' - made it easily defendable, especially as there never seemed to be anything passing by, open wasteland spanning in every direction. 

"Best whores in the Commonwealth." Garcia mumbled, forgetting himself, his words cutting through Ava's thoughts and snapping her attention back to him. 

"Excuse me?" 

"Ap... apparently..." he stuttered, clearing his throat. A smirk pulled at Ava's lips and she shook her head. 

"Well Garcia, thank you for your input. My point was that we need to draw the target away, and seeing as he has a thing for _'the best whores in the Commonwealth'_ ," she finger quoted Garcia's words and watched a blush climb rapidly up his cheeks, "I figure the best way to get him out is the 'Damsel in Distress' ploy." 

"I don't get why it has to be you though?" he muttered. 

"Because have you seen the others? No offence, but as strapping as you all are, I doubt any of you are his type." She pulled him closer to her so he was looking her dead in the eye. "Look we've got the place surrounded, anything goes off plan and we default to the normal approach. But let's try and do this with some finesse for a change." 

"I'm not going to win am I?" 

Ava shook her head and tied her bandana around her forehead, hiding her tattoo. She kissed the back of his hand quickly and stood up. 

"Best give the signal then," she ordered, clapping him roughly on shoulder as she slowly began making her way towards the building. 

 

\-----------------------------------------  
Ava stood at the door waiting for the sign everyone was in position - the glint of the sniper's mirrors; the first two on her left, the second on the far right, the third to her near right and the final glimmer atop the hill in front of her - before cautiously entering the premises. 

She tried to hold herself as inconspicuously as possible as she moved through the room, taking in the details of her surroundings as she went. Armed guards lined the walls and she made a mental note to let Wes know; there could be a lot of work here for a squad if something were to happen. There weren't as many customers as she'd imagined but the few that were there, were greatly outnumbered by women. She tried to take in as many of their faces as possible, cataloguing them in her mind for future reference as she made her way to the rear of the room, heading to what she assumed was a bar. She could search out her target from there, hopefully drawing less attention to herself. 

She spotted him at the back of the room, lounging in a chair that looked too fancy against its drab surroundings. A blonde woman was straddling his hips and two brunettes were taking it in turns to kiss him and caress his hair. She cursed herself, not expecting to be dealing with quite so much opposition. 

_Keep calm, you got this,_ she told herself over and over as she climbed onto the stool at the end of the bar and ran through the building in her head, evaluating what she'd seen; exit front and back and a large window behind the bar someone could easily fit through, at least ten guards around the room, two men other than the target, at least one more upstairs that she could hear, maybe nine or ten girls... 

"You sure you want to be here?" 

She jumped almost clear of her chair at the bartenders low voice. He'd approached without her noticing and that made her nervous. 

"I...erm...I'm," she stumbled over her words, scrambling through the whirlwind of thoughts to conjure her fake story. "I just need something to drink and somewhere to rest a while," she breathed. 

"You got any caps?" 

Ava shook her head and pushed her bottom lip out trying to look as innocent as possible. The bartender simply nodded and fumbled under the bar, eventually producing a glass filled with dirty water. 

"Unless you can get one of these..." he gestured to the men with his chin, "to foot the bill, 'fraid that's all I can give you." 

Ava felt her stomach churn. The one thing she hadn't been able to adjust to was dirty, slightly irradiated water. _Play the part,_ she thought to herself, nodding frantically and grabbing the glass. She chugged the water down in one go, trying to ignore the slimy, metallic taste that burned down her throat. Bile quickly chased it back up to her mouth and she struggled to keep herself composed. 

"Th...thank you," she eventually managed to splutter out between hidden gags. The bartender nodded silently again and placed another glass on the bar before disappearing into the back of the room. 

Now she had to wait. 

Ava pulled at the rips in her jeans, examining the pale skin left exposed. Garcia had cut at the majority of the material, essentially leaving her with shorts that barely covered her bottom and scraps of material spiraling around each of her legs. She'd agreed to it at the time, but now that she could feel every pair of eyes on her, she wished she'd have left more places to hide weapons. She shifted in her seat, subtly checking that the knife in her boot was still there, and repositioned herself in the eye-line of the target: William Styles a small time gangster who was beginning to cause problems for a number of people. She didn't know who had paid for his head, but from what Stanny had told her, there was a myriad of angry woman that William routinely left in his wake, who were less than impressed with his behavior. She'd scoffed at the time, wondering what could be so appealing about the man that numerous woman would become so attached to him despite his infamous reputation. Now that he was sat in front of her though, Ava could understand. William was incredibly good looking; greying hair slicked back, bright blue eyes, a strong jaw line and a muscular and tall physique all blended together to produce a very striking individual. 

But that didn't matter anymore, someone wanted him dead and they wanted it to look like an accident. That's why she'd chosen to ambush him here; a brothel in the middle of nowhere - as long as she could get him away from the building, no-one would question his disappearance. 

She crossed her legs and jiggled her feet, desperately trying to subtly catch his attention. It didn't take long to work and William flashed her a coy smile before turning his attention back to the women around him. Ava smiled to herself and waited for him to look back over to her, managing to quickly initiate a shy back and forth of flirty smiles. Soon, William was openly watching her cross and uncross her legs, play with her hair and run her fingers up and down her glass. She smiled, wondering why she'd ever doubted herself and absent-mindedly took a swig of her drink. 

As the warm gritty liquid hit her stomach unexpectedly, she heaved, pressure punching at her throat. She jumped off the stool and ran to what she assumed was the bathroom, fighting to keep herself from throwing up. Her breathing shuddered as she tried to keep calm and the second she burst through the bathroom door, she crashed herself over the sink, spitting the remnants of her drink from her mouth between dry heaves. As her stomach calmed, she took a few deep breaths and collected herself, savoring the feel of cool tiles under her palms, before eventually pushing herself from the counter. 

"You shouldn't drink that." 

Ava whirled around to see William leaning against the door frame, a glass of what she assumed was scotch in his hand. 

"Makes you sick." His voice was velvety and he commanded the room even with his relaxed stance. "You a whore?" he questioned and Ava shook her head, unable to form a coherent link from her brain to her mouth. 

"Have this then, on me." William handed her the glass and she sipped it carefully. Scotch. She tried not to wrinkle her nose. 

"Thank you." 

"So, what are you doing so far out in the sticks?" He pushed himself leisurely away from the wall and meandered towards Ava. 

"I, erm..." 

William was _tall_. He towered over Ava and she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact with him. 

"I got lost heading for Diamond City. Had to divert around some deathclaws and never managed to get back on track." 

He laughed and moved closer to Ava, backing her gradually against the wall. 

"You, are a _very_ long way from Diamond City..." His words were smooth and low, echoing around the small bathroom, and as he ran a finger up Ava's arm, she struggled for a moment to keep focused. 

_Stick to the plan,_ she repeated to herself. 

"Well, you fancy setting me back on track?" she rasped, placing the sole of her boot against the wall and angling her hips subtly towards him. "I mean, if you're not too busy." She set the glass down near the sink, keeping their eyes locked, before looking him up and down. 

He chuckled, "are you sure you're not a whore?" 

"One hundred percent." 

"You could make a lot of caps if it ever interested you." 

She smiled and leaned towards him. “This isn't even the part I'm good at,” she breathed, moving herself as close as she could to his ear. 

Without missing a beat, William had grabbed her arm and roughly directed her out through the building towards the back door. Ava followed calmly, confident in her plan. She kept calm as they passed close to the bodyguards, fury laced through their gruff features, and as she was directed at such an angle that meant she was only in the view of one sniper.

She didn't start to panic until William shoved her through an archway and into the ruins of the house next door, and pressed her against the wall, pinning her in place before she could even take stock of her surroundings. Her eyes flitted around the room as much as possible, but her positioning made it difficult to see anything not directly in her eye line. 

"Seriously?" She needed to buy herself time. "Next door to a brothel? You want to do this here?" She felt her voice shake slightly as William's firm body held her between himself and the wall as crumbling plaster dusting over her, tickling her nose and throat. 

He pushed her further against the wall, her body now compressed tight between his large frame and the building, constricting her breathing and movement. More dust filled her lungs and she tried to cough, the sound muffled by her awkward positioning. 

"You think I'm going to let you drag me out into the open?" he laughed. She tried to turn her head to look at him but he rammed it flush against the wall and leaned close to her ear, "I bet you've got all you little friends surrounding the place haven't you?" 

"I... I don't know what... what you're talking about..." she spluttered between coughs. 

She was deafened by the beating of her heart in her ears, panic beginning to set in as she realised they were completely out of view of all the snipers. Frantic thoughts flashed through her mind as she tried to make sense of the situation: _Had any of them seen her leave the brothel? Garcia certainly wouldn't have, neither would Lyle and Mills to the left or Derman to the far right... Either Darosa or Brennan must have spotted her though. But how long would it take for them to get down here?_

William spun her around, pinning her chest with one arm as he ripped her bandanna from her head and she could no longer focus on anything other than the frenzied panic rising in her chest.

"You don't think I know a fucking gunner when I see one?" William growled. "There's something about the way you hold yourselves, walk into places like you fucking own them." 

He moved his hands to her throat and lifted her effortlessly off the ground. Ava kicked out at him, trying fruitlessly to loosen his grip on her neck. Her vision began to blur and she willed herself to stay calm and focus on taking in whatever air she could. 

"You might have had everyone in there fooled, but not me. Unfortunately for you, you aren't that good of an actress." 

His gruff words fell on deaf ears as Ava struggled to get enough purchase on the wall to move her boot into grabbing distance - she needed to be sure she could reach her knife before she made a grab for it, knowing she'd only have one chance. 

Before she could make a move though, William noticed her writhing and slammed her hard against the wall, knocking what precious air was still in her lungs clean from her body. She whimpered, her mind clouding with panic as he tightened his grip across her windpipe. 

She kicked desperately with her legs and clawed at his hands. Each heaving breath now drawing in less and less air.

Her lungs burned. 

Her throat ached and her heart raced dangerously hard beneath her ribs. 

She kicked one last time before her vision faded and she lost all comprehension of what was happening. 

Her limp frame slamming against the floor shocked her body into taking a breath and she gasped desperately for air. Her hands clutched instinctively at her throat, but where she expected to find hands there was nothing, after a few more breaths she realised the the weight around her neck had evaporated and she was lay on the floor, dark figures flashing intermittently across her vision.

She drew her attention to her breathing, trying to regain full consciousness as she tried to understand what was happening. Slowly the figures took purchase and she realised Garcia had managed to get William on the floor. He was sat across his chest, his knees digging into his shoulders as he wrestled with him. Ava watched, frozen with panic, as Garcia struggled to keep the larger man down. 

After what seemed like an age of violent back and forths, he finally managed to smash William's head of the hard ground, the sound reverberating around the entire building. As William lay in stunned stillness for a second, Garcia to the chance to reach for the gun on his hip. 

"No! No guns!" Ava wheezed feebly, finally engaging her mind and body. 

Garcia shot her a dirty look, slammed William's head off the floor again, and went back to reaching for his holster. 

"Seb no! They'll hear it!" 

Garcia made a feral noise as he grabbed the gun, spun it around and crashed the butt off William's face. Ava winced at the crunching of the man’s nose, the crack of his skull and the pounding of metal against bone as Garcia mercilessly struck his face over and over until eventually, William stopped moving; his chest remained still and the pool of blood around his head seeped steadily into the wooden boards beneath him. 

Garcia rocked back onto his heels and stood up slowly, giving himself a few seconds to catch his breath before moving towards Ava and holding his hand out to her. She grasped it and let him pull her up without taking her eyes off the body in front of her. 

"So...what do you suggest we do now Miss _'lets try and do it with some finesse'?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat about this on here or [tumblr](http://pip-girl-111.tumblr.com/) please do, I'd love to hear any head canons/ideas etc :)


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